The Adventures of Calvin and Hobbes
by ZomboDeZany
Summary: A small satire on fluffy talking animal stories.  small dollop of randomness a day keeps the doctor away, and all that... Enjoy!


**The Adventures of Churchill the Brain**

_In Which Socrates Loses his Eye and It is Discovered Once More in a Neat and Tidy and All-Round Sentimental and Pleasing Way Designed to Make You Feel Very Warm and Fuzzy Inside Your Heart In Order to Instil Within You the Idea That There is Indeed a Form of Rightness In the World Even Though You and I Know That This is Cannot be So in Our Mind of Minds – Oh, and Some Other Stuff Happens Too_

Deep in the heart of the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest, is a tree. This observation is not particularly spectacular at first glance, because within a forest you are bound to come across at least one or two of the perishing blighters at some point or another. But...take another glance. Things are not always what they at first appear to be...

Set into this large, ancient oak tree is a door. Above the door is written, in fancy silver lettering, "Mr Klemuntz", however, the occupant who lived under the name, behind the little wooden-coloured door lived a short, tubby fellow who preferred to be referred to by his friends as Churchill the Brain. The lettering above the door was spelled so poorly because it was written for him by his friend Callum Vincent (or Calvin, as he preferred to be called), who lived in another part of the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest.

Along the path, approaching Churchill's door trotted a small vole by the name of Dee. Dee wore a green body suit that was really quite unnecessary in the warm summer weather, but he had often reflected that it gave him a sense of personal identity.

He stopped outside the door of Churchill's tree and couldn't decide whether or not he should use the door knocker or the simply to knock on the door itself. After a few moments, he decided that it would be easier for him to knock on the door rather than to try and reach the knocker, which really was too high for his stubby little arms to reach.

After knocking with the barber-surgeon's knock (rat-tat a-rat-tat-TAT-TAT!) the door slowly opened, revealed a very portly weasel who was coated with soft, almost plush fur.

"Good day to you, Dee." said the booming, upper-class baritone of Churchill. "I knew it was you before I had even opened the door."

Dee's eyes became as round as saucers, and made him look very silly. "H-have you perfected telepathy before Newton has? He'll be ever so cross!" the little velvety vole squeaked in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

"Oh no, not at all. I simply observed that you are the only caller to knock on the door. Elementary, really, my dear Dee. You see, everybody else uses the knocker, which I know that you cannot reach."

"Perhaps if you placed the knocker lower down, then I could as well." Dee grumbled, crossing his arms.

"We shape our buildings, and afterwards, our buildings shape us." Churchill said gently. "Everybody but you would be crippled by chronic backache if it were low enough for you to reach, Dee. And even all the Elixir in the Forest could not correct that ailment, I fear."

"I came to tell you! The Elixir tree is empty! And..and all the Panacea Bees have disappeared - I can't find any more!" Dee squealed in despair. "What shall we do now?"

Churchill paused. He sat down on a rock and leaned forwards, with his right elbow on his knee and his three chins resting on his closed fist. "Ponder! Ponder, ponder, ponder!" he repeated, as if it was some form of mantra. After a few minutes of pondering, Churchill stood up. "We must go and see Calvin. He is the only one who can sort out this mess. I believe he told me that he was to pay a visit on Socrates today. It seems that _he_ lost his eye again."

So, on through the Forest they walked, stepping over the gurgling brooks and streams, and wading through the wider rivers. The marched through the undergrowth, over the beaten paths and dusty tracks that marked the little highways of the pedestrian Forest.

Suddenly, on the path ahead of them, sprang a large and clearly agitated water rat. He was wearing a deep blue waistcoat simply because:

a) he liked it

b) it made him stand out from all of his friends and relations

c) he enjoyed making lists and rules and had fun listing all the things he liked to make rules about, and, as a rule, enjoyed listing things about his waistcoat

"What ho, Flamel!" Churchill shouted in a jocular fashion, giving his friend a wave.

"What ho nothing, Churchill." Flamel sniffed. "Have you seen Socrates? I want a word with him. I have a feeling that he's been into my house and stolen all of my Valerian and Prozac. I know that to err is human, to forgive divine; but if I see that cow I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"But Flamel, why do you need Prozac?" Dee squeaked, wishing that he hadn't chosen to wear his Lycra bodysuit in this hot weather. He shuffled back into the vast oasis of shade cast by Churchill's tummy.

"Oh, hello there Dee didn't see you there." Flamel said hurriedly, in his short, clipped tones. "I have to take it you see, because Hobbes likes to try and jump on me whenever he can unexpectedly...it's very unnerving sometimes, you know..." he sniffed once more.

He pulled a gleaming golden pocket watch from his waistcoat and studied it intently. It hadn't worked for years, and in any case, he couldn't _actually_ read. And even why a water rat _needed_ a pocket watch when he spent much of his time in the river was beyond the comprehension of both Churchill and Dee.

"Oh my! I'm terribly late for my appointment with Newton! I'd better go and see him straight away. I only hope that that wily Hobbes isn't trying anything. But he said to me that Hippo and Crates were going to see him today, so I think if I go via the_ Empty Vessel_ I should be safe. It is the long way around, but each shower of rain yields a more bountiful crop...farewell!"

Churchill knew that the_ Empty Vessel_ was an old ruined pirate ship that Calvin and Hobbes had crashed one day on some rocks in the Mudflat Plains.

"No path can be trodden twice, as life only ever comes once!" Dee squeaked after the disappearing back of the water rat.

After trekking over another expansive portion of the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest, Churchill and Dee approached the wide, empty area of Socrates's Glade. The grass was speckled with bright little yellow buttercups, who waved cheerfully up at the sun who smiled kindly down at them from the blue vault of heaven. Dee felt that at the moment, all was right with the world, and that how anyone could be so gloomy today was beyond him.

After searching about through the gorse thickets and thistle patches their friend was reputed to haunt (he liked spiky things in his dark moods), they espied a large earth-coloured bovine standing underneath a rotting old yew tree. He was munching on some fallen berries, and he was muttering to himself bitterly.

"I think, therefore I am," he murmured, slurping up another mouthful of toxic leaves, "therefore I think I am blummin' miserable, which concludes that I am indeed the most sorrowful creature in the Forest!"

"How now, brown cow?" Churchill boomed, approaching.

Socrates raised his drooping head long enough to gaze blearily at the two animals approaching him, before realising that he couldn't see anything at all because his single remaining eye was missing (he had given his other eye to Newton the badger as a bet that Socrates could drink 50 gallons of candle grease in one go and still walk over hot coals without scorching his feet. It didn't go exactly to plan, needless to say). He had to settle for audio only. And even that wasn't up to much. "Oh, it's you two. Did you bring me any of that Conium I asked for?"

"Now, look here old boy, you can't just go about popping your clogs off the mortal coil just because you're depressed." Churchill said kindly, walking over and giving his friend a slap on the back.

"Depressed? Wouldn't you be depressed if you were a male and you had been cursed to bear the weight of an udder for all your life? And would you not be depressed if you had been chewing these yew leaves and berries for hours, whilst waiting to a branch to fall off the dead tree so that you may be struck the final blow that renders one's existence over? What, when you get down to it, is the point of life?" The cow inhaled deeply after his long-winded soliloquy.

"Things just happen, what the hell?" suggested Dee in his high-pitched voice as he clambered onto Socrates's back.

"Remember that there is nothing stable in human affairs; therefore avoid undue elation in prosperity, or undue depression in adversity." The weasel countermanded his friend.

"Hmm. You know, I think I'll have that, if you don't mind." Socrates said thoughtfully. "If only I had the ability to write!"

"As it so happens, Flamel is looking for you. He would rather like to know where all his Prozac went." Churchill went on sternly, "But we are here to search for Calvin. Do you know where he is?"

"Where is anyone, except within their own hearts?" Dee suggested helpfully.

Both Churchill and Socrates ignored the input from the vole.

"I thought he was going to call upon Hippo and Crates, to discover if they had found my eye." the cow mooed mournfully.

The weasel and the vole both shrugged at each other, being unable to decipher the last part of that moo and reached the mutual consensus that it was best they were going now. They said almost as much to the vegetating animal, and set off out of Socrates's Glade and towards the Mudflat Plains where the _Empty Vessel_ had been wrecked.

(_)

Quite some way away, in another neck of the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest stands another tree. This tree, like Churchill the Brain's, also has a door set into it. This door, however, is a bright red one, and doesn't have any writing above it, (and certainly not in poncey silver letters) and behind it lives Calvin. He a small, scruffy-looking boy of about 6 years of age, with spiky blonde hair, stripy red-and-black jumper, black trousers and white trainers with fiddly magenta bits on (not that the trainers ever stayed white for long).

He stuck his head carefully out, and seeing that it appeared to be safe, crept out and shut his house door very quietly. The sun shone down upon him, beaming happily, and the birds tweeted at him from the trees. What a glorious day it was! The world was awash with many happy and pleasant possibilities. The day was ripe for the offing! What more could anybody ask for?

After walking along the path that led past a little hillock upon which grew some very low-hanging trees, he stopped and scanned the area with his alert eyes. Nope. No sign of Hobbes. For once, Calvin dearly wished to jump out on the foxy tiger, instead of the tiger jumping on _him_. He crept out of the hillock when all seemed to be safe, when -

The world suddenly spun as a flying fuzzy ball of orange and black stripes bowled him over.

"Hey, Hobbes." Calvin sighed. "Why can't ya just say 'hi' like ordinary folks?"

"Because I'm a tiger, and it's what tigers do best. If we didn't, we wouldn't be g-r-r-r-r-r-reat!" Hobbes said, standing up and brushing himself off. He gave Calvin a small dig in the ribs with a stubby finger. "What're we gonna do today?"

"Let's go exploring!" Calvin yelled in excitement, and the two set off, boy and tiger, bouncing and laughing happily, whilst around them, the insects generally minded their own business.

After running for several minutes, they reached that part of the Forest where all the trees became tall pines, which grew close together, not letting much sunlight through. A dark shape lumbered past the horizon, where the far-off fingers of sunlight clawed through the trees.

Both Calvin and Hobbes applied the brakes sharply and stared.

"Is that..." Calvin whispered to the tiger cautiously "a Bellerswon?"

"I don't think so. Most of them left the Forest during the Schism, and they only come out in twilight, anyway." Hobbes whispered back. They both crept behind a broad specimen of a pine tree just to make sure, however. The tree didn't much care for that sort of thing. It was particularly sensitive about its size, and didn't like they way these two mammals were implicating that it was fat. It shook its branches angrily at them. This protest went unnoticed as a light breeze passed through almost a second after the tree had stopped.

"This _is_ a _sort_ of twilight, isn't it? I mean, all these trees all bunched up like this." Calvin said.

"Shh. It's coming this way." Hobbes clamped a hand over Calvin's mouth.

The shadowy, hulking outline was walking briskly towards them now, growing larger and larger with every passing second. It was muttering and murmuring to itself as if trying to memorise something. "...45 grams of mud, 22 grams of bayleaves...70 grams of gnarled fern root..."

"I don't think it _is_ a Bellerswon. It's not moaning nearly enough." Hobbes suggested.

"Mmmf ffmmhm hmmmmm!" Calvin argued.

"Sorry." Hobbes replied and removed his hand.

The figure, who was decidedly _not_ a Bellerswon was almost on top of them. Hobbes crouched down, getting ready to spring. It happened so fast that Calvin only saw a blur. One moment, there was Hobbes ready to pounce, and then next - Hobbes, bobbing up and down, was sitting atop the great mountainous chest of -

"Newton!" Calvin cried and joined Hobbes on his perch. Now they were both bobbing up and down.

"Aye! Weeeel, would ye... both mind getten up? You've made me... drop me glassees... y' young schallywagsch!" As the old badger huffed and puffed, Hobbes and Calvin bounced up and down on the wheezing balloon-like stomach region.

Newton regained his strength and heaved himself up off the pine needle-strewn floor. "Ow! Och, now look what ye've made me doo! Ai'm now a living pin cooshun!" He began plucking the needles out of his spongy posterior with his great claws. After finishing this, he picked up his wicker basket, and, when his check to assure himself that all of its contents was complete, he said sniffily:

"Weel? Are yoo jus' gonna stand therrre like a cup'le o' mellons? Ai cannae moove wi'oot me glassees! As yoo weel knoo, me eyesight's not good on far-oof objects."

"There is more in heaven and in earth than man can comprehend, your glasses are a mark of that." Said Hobbes.

"In what way?" Calvin inquired, as the old badger stared at Hobbes as if he were mad.

"I mean that, it just seems odd that you should need glasses, that Flamel carries around a fob watch and why Churchill always wears those bright yellow gum boots and nothing else upwards. It makes no sense to me. Aren't you ashamed, for trying to become what aren't?"

"Aye? So yer're ashamed of meh now? Yoo, who sleeps in th' saime baide as a hyoomun!"

The tiger crouched down once more. He looked ready to pounce. "It's not the same thing at all."

"Whoah! Whoah! Guys! Take a chill pill, okay! Let's keep movin' I think we ougtta just try and see where Socrates's eye went." Calvin stepped between them, holding up his arms.

"Aye, poor Socrates. Mebbe I shoold give him back the eye he lost to me." Newton looked shifty.

"I've been meaning to ask, what d'you even need that thing for, anyway? Sounds real creepy, keeping a cow's eye." Calvin said conversationally, as they walked through the dense undergrowth, towards the lighter areas of the Forest once more.

"I also happen to know he won the foot off a rabbit named Oswald the other week. He's not so lucky as his name suggests, anymore." Hobbes muttered to Calvin in a stage whisper behind Newton's back, quite literally.

The badger, despite his poor eyesight, managed to spot something the other two didn't. "Take a look a' that! A pot of Ellixurr!" he exclaimed, glad that a change of subject had been so fortunate to come within his grasp. He didn't want any more questions on the subject of missing body parts.

As they approached the small clearing, devoid of shrubs, they did indeed see a small purple round ceramic jar, containing within it a sticky brown treacle-like substance.

"I'd say it's half-full." Calvin remarked.

"Ai'd say et's half empteh." Newton disagreed.

"I'd say it's Elixir and I'm hungry!" Hobbes declared, as with his stomach rumbling at the sight of the delicious Elixir so close to and, he leapt towards the pot.

"Wait Hobbes! It think it's-!" Calvin yelled in warning. Too late. With a thundering crash that was unnecessarily noisy under the circumstances, because it made a small squadron of birds (who had been twittering away and minding their own business) take flight in panic; the ground around the jar and the tiger gave way, revealing a ten-foot-deep drop.

A small number of emergency weight-loss releases splattered onto Newton's head shortly afterwards as the birds soared away.

"-Churchill's patented Bellerswon Trap." Calvin finished lamely.

"Nope! You've never been more wrong! I was me!" Said a nasally voice that none of them had ever wanted to hear again.

"Oh no!" said all three in unison. Even Hobbes, stuck in the pit, knew who was speaking.

"Paedo Walrus!" The tiger growled. His voice was muffled, because his had landed headfirst into the jar, and it was now encased around his head. "You tried to corrupt Susie and she never came back!"

"And yoo shouldae saide, 'et was Ai!', not 'et was me!'" Newton added. No one said anything for awhile, in an awkward silence.

"Anyway: here are my terms." Said Paedo Walrus, getting down off the tree stump he'd been standing on for dramatic purposes and slithered over, his tusks gleaming in the half-darkness. "You let me back into the Forest, and I won't unleash my vast army of Bellerswons."

"But if you set them on us...then the Forest'll be..." Calvin dared not finish that sentence.

"I really thought you were going to try and eat me last time, tiger." Paedo Walrus taunted, crawling towards the pit where Hobbes stood, trying to claw his way out. " But you all went soft on me."

"E'en yoo should noo tha' deaeth is but a secondary punishment t' life." Newton said, standing toe-to-blubber with the mighty walrus. Newton was the only animal capable of matching the walrus for size, apart from Hippo.

"Can all that philosophy jabber!" Paedo Walrus said, poking Newton in the chest with a finger like a Cumberland sausage. "Either meet my demands or suffer the eternal moaning of the Bellerswons! Do you know how damn tiresome it is out there, outside the Forest? Just how dull it is, to have to listen to all the Bellerswons whining and moping all the time? Having nothing to look at but Bellerswons sucks!"

"It was your...other sucking that got you turfed outta here!" Calvin yelled. "Don't even _think_ you're coming back in!"

The walrus swung around, and pushed Calvin over. "You wanna talk about sucking, boy? Let's get it over now..." he advanced, and started to pull off Calvin's shoes.

Before Calvin could even say "Get off, pervert!" in a flash of orange, black and white, Hobbes had found the strength to overcome the deepness of the pit and leap onto the great mass of grey blubber.

The tiger had landed on the shoulders of Paedo Walrus and began headbutting him, or rather, jarbutting him, on the blubbery cranium. Although it didn't have much effect on Paedo Walrus, it did shake up Hobbes quite a bit, He'd managed to chew through most of the Exlir, and quite how he was still managing to breathe unnerved even Paedo Walrus.

"If!" _Thwack! _"-you-"_ Thwack! _"-ever-"_ Thwack! _"-touch-"_ Thwack! _"-Calvin-"_ Thwack! _"-again-"_ Thwack! _"I'll..." Hobbes threaten, between each jabutt.

"That's rather rich, coming from someone who shares his bed every night!" Paedo Walrus hissed through his giant tusks.

As Hobbes extended his claws, ready to carve into this great beast, he was thrown off by a wet, slapping object, which everyone was relived to discover was only the walrus's fat-covered arm.

"Our friendship is purely platonic! As pure as the mountain snow that falls unto the depths of heaven!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing for a second, not daring to believe that the absolute drivel they had just heard had arisen from Hobbes's maw.

"What the hell was that?" snapped Paedo Walrus.

"I dunno, just made it up."

Then the action kicked off again, in a rather literal style. The crouching tiger leapt towards the mass of blubber in a flying ninja kick. But Paedo Walrus proved to be something of a hidden dragon. He too jumped up into the air, with surprising grace and speed for a creature that was so heavy and didn't actually possess legs, and up and over Hobbes's head.

Hobbes went speeding into an elderly pine, right leg first. There was a crunching sound, followed by a cascading hail of pine cones, and the tinkling noise of breaking china as the head of Hobbes was released from its sticky prison.

Newton and Calvin, who had long since retreated behind a small holly bush to watch from a safe distance, crept out again.

Hobbes, dodging and weaving blows from the walrus, proceeded to eat the invigorating Elixir. He felt the strength within him rise, and for some reason had the urge to start scowling whilst smoking a pipe.

"A-gug-gug-gug-gug-gug!" he chuckled, as Paedo Walrus lunged for his tail, and ended up impaling his tusks into the tree. He was trapped there, gurgling pitifully.

"We, have a cunning plan!" Calvin said, stepping smartly towards his assailant – but not _too_ close.

"Aye, et's a plan so cunning ye could poot a tail on et an' call et a weezil!" Newton agreed. "We've been puttin' our loves te'getherr, an'-" he was cut off short. He looked in annoyance at Calvin.

"Hey! It was _my_ idea!" The boy strode up towards the mass of fat defiantly and jabbed it with his toe. The elderly badger placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and gently towed him back to a safe distance.

"Cud 'oo gedme oudda 'ere?" enquired Paedo Walrus in the most honeyed tones he could muster.

"Only if you give in to our terms, or we'll bury alive you next time you try anything!" hissed Hobbes. "Believe me, benevolent towards life as we forest folk are, nothing would give me greater pleasure!"

"O'ay, o'ay I'll 'oo anyfing!"The walrus cried, knowing he was truly defeated.

Summoning his new-found Elixir-induced strength, the mighty tiger, with Newton's assistance, heaved the stricken creature away from his predicament.

Hobbes, with some considerable difficulty, managed to pin both of Paedo Walrus's arms behind his back. "Ooooh, yes," the walrus crooned "you certainly know how get a good grip on things!"

Calvin ignored the statement whilst Newton tried (and failed miserably) to stop Hobbes from twisting Paedo Walrus's arms.

"Look, for the last bleedin' time: here's our proposition. I challenge you to a game of Calvinball on the Mudflat Plains in two hours. Us Foresters against you an' an equal number of your Bellerswons. Capische?" Calvin said finally, looking at his enemy full in the face. "If we win, you leave the Forest and never come back. Set foot in it once more and we'll bury you."

"And if I win...?" Silence enveloped the area like a vast blanket. Even the birds stopped singing. Everybody, including all the trees, held their breath expectantly.

"You can come back an' do whatever the hell you want." Calvin said, with an air of horrible finality.

"Let me see...there's you, Hobbes, and our badger buddy here, that tubby weasel and the squeaky mouse thing-"

"Vole-" Newton corrected, looking harassed at being referred to as "buddy" by such a repulsive individual.

"- vole, thank you – that he hangs around with, then there's the two hippopotamuses, that water vermin and the suicidal bovine. That's one, two, three-four-five, six-seven-eight... nine of you." Said paedo Walrus, counting very well on fingers he didn't actually seem to posses.

"Yes, yes well done, the penguin can count." sighed Hobbes brusquely, releasing his captor. He pushed the walrus away from him. "See you in two hours, then."

The two parties split ways, the Forest-dwellers feeling very tense and nervous. They walked on legs that were either shaking, knock-kneed or wobbly (and in Newton's case, arthritic). The whole Forest, even the trees and rocks appeared to nervous.

The wind blew more prominently, causing all trees of all kinds to shake either with fear or anger. As they left the more dense areas of the Forest to a deciduous section, an old cedar, feeling very annoyed at having been practically sold out by Calvin, tried to make its feelings felt by climbing onto him.

Hobbes managed to force his friend out of the way before the tree collapsed onto the leaf-strewn floor with the customary resounding crash.

"Have ye ever considered the ideer tha' if a tree were t' fall doon in the woods wi' naebody around to hear et, would et make any noise, ye ken?" Newton said conversationally.

"I've been meaning to ask, what's in the basket you're guarding?" Hobbes said, looking greedily at it as his stomach rumbled.

"Oh, this? T'is nothin', just a few herbs and spiceese, Ai pondered t' ideer o' makin' a new kinda styoo for mai dinnurr." Newton said a little too quickly. Hobbes eyed him and his wicker basket suspiciously, as the elderly badger hastily made sure the red-and-white chequered cloth covered the internal contents.

"Hmmmm."

They trudged onwards through the Forest, now finding themselves at the edge of a large gorge, at the bottom of which was running a lazy blue streak of river. The river couldn't have cared less about the animals above, but it did object to being forded nosily when they wended their way down towards it.

When they emerged on the other side, the god of the river rose up out of the water, up to its full height, a vast being made of pure water that flowed and cascaded off him eternally, and looking extremely impressive; in order to voice his complaint at having his rest disturbed, but was hit in the face by a small rock that Calvin tossed obliviously over his shoulder.

(_)

The sun, now having passed its zenith but still very bright, looked down upon the Forest in anticipation. The coming Calvinball battle looked to be a promising one. The air was hot and heavy, and bore a passing resemblance to the interior of a gas oven on full heat. What had once been a cheerful day had now turned into a dreary and oppressive one.

Churchill could _feel_ it. He could feel in the air with not only his nostril, but with his long whiskers. The trees themselves appeared to know that Something Bad was approaching. He looked down at Dee, who was trotting beside him.

Dee was beginning to regret his choice of garment even more as they left the cool shade of the sultry Apple groves.

The Mudflat Plains stretched out before them, a vast expanse of what had once been marshes that was now mere stretches of mud. Mud, as far as one cared (or didn't care) to look. The entire world's capacity of mud seemed to congregate here, whether by some form of magnetic attraction or some mere universal whim, the Foresters didn't know. All they knew now, was that their entire fate rested here. They found themselves drawn here, as easily as the mud did.

Churchill the Brain and Dee trudged onwards, Churchill feeling particularly pleased he was wearing his bright yellow Wellington boots on today of all days. In the distance, and growing larger with each step they took, the could see the _Empty Vessel_. It was not as empty as its name implied, however, because it was now the home of both Hippo and Crates, who, being hippopotamuses, enjoyed living in mud almost as much as pigs did.

"I say Dee, are you pondering what I'm pondering?" The obese weasel inquired of his minute companion.

"Are you pondering that you'd like a drink in this hot weather?" Dee squeaked, his throat feeling raspy from the way the sun still continued to beat down inconsiderately upon them.

"Now I am, yes." the weasel conceded "But are you pondering what this whole situation is about? It seems dashed rummy."

"'Sup dudes!" called the cheery voice of Crates, followed by the cheery grin of Crates, as he poked his snout out of his cabin and appeared on deck of the _Empty Vessel_. He looked down at his arriving friends.

"Permission to come aboard, sah!" Churchill executed a textbook salute.

"Sure thing man, sure thing." Churchill sighed. Where did these youg'uns learn such language? No doubt Crates picked it up from Calvin.

The weasel and the vole clambered up the rotting rope ladder that sagged limply over the side of the beached ship. Finding themselves on deck, they called: "What ho, Hippo! Surely you must be up her as well!"

"Ah, Churchy dude! Nice to see you again, amirite? With boom to the bang and the razzmatazz, yeah?"

Churchill and Dee exchanged puzzled glances, and both sighed in unison.

"We've come to find The Lost Eye of Socrates, you see. We think he lost it." Dee said shrilly.

"But like, aren't we all lost, dudes, all wandering on the great oceans of time, never to find ourselves until we're completely adrift?" Hippo said, emerging from his own cabin.

"What _have_ you been eating to make you go all...?" The weasel was lost for words.

"Have you been at the soap again?" Dee suggested helpfully.

"Yeah...but...no..but...yeah...but..." Crates started to say.

"Look, dudes, we don't know where Socrates's eyes is. Wish we could help. Maybe Calvin knows." Hippo stepped in, looking suddenly bored.

Churchill's whiskers bristled. "My weasel senses are tingling. Something very...bad...is approaching..." he left the words floating in the stagnant air.

(_)

Socrates was now heading towards one of the rivers that ran through his meadow, hoping to see (figuratively) if he could drown himself in it. God, why did his life have to be so miserable? If only he had some Conium that'd put the spoke in the wheels of ineffability for certain.

He had by grown used to the small personal rain cloud that hovered above him, pouring constantly over his muddy-brown flanks.

He tensed himself as he heard the rushing waters and gurgling bubbles of the river inches from his hooves. Soon, all the pain would be over...soon the world would be a happier place, happier without him...

He heard the splash, the noise, the perpetual roar of nature in his ears. He felt himself begin to slowly sink down...down...down towards the open arms of Fate who slowly tried to enfold him into her sweet embrace. He could almost feel Death sharpening his scythe, ready to swing.

Suddenly he could hear angry shouts, and he felt himself rising, rising, higher and higher, until -

He was pressed roughly onto a small inlet of soil, a very crude form of miniature beach, around which grew interested bulrushes.

"May I ask what you're doing? You're _not_ going to drown yourself until you _at least_ have the _common_ _decency_ to explain to me _why_ you _stole_ my _entire_ reserves of Prozac!" called out an entirely familiar and thoroughly unwelcome clipped and snooty voice. The owner of the voice ave him several slaps around the face as a restorative agent.

"I had to ingest my last jar of Elixir to save your sorry hide, so I hope you have a satisfactory answer for me!" Flamel said tempestuously, strutting up and down the river bank in a highly agitated state.

"But to what purpose does anybody do anything on this mortal sphere of our? Surely our actions in this life have but little consequence – oof!"

Socrates would never have guessed that such a preppy water rat could have so accurate an aim.

"Very well, very well! Pax! It was indeed I! I was felling...hungry..." the bovine continued in a somewhat higher voice than before.

(_)

By now the sun had almost completed its nightly ablutions and was ready to retire for bed. The sticky mud was at the stage when it would begin to loosen in the dew of the night.

All the Forest-dwellers had assembled upon the Empty Vessel, watching what could be their very last sunset. All apart from Newton, who had hurriedly mumbled something about how "Mai old bones cannae tek such strife as Calvinball" and had hobbled off the premises quickly, clutching his basket as if it were the Crown Jewels of Sheba.

"Hey, why don't we get some of those other peeps from that Bluestone Abbey down the road to help?" Crates suggested. "They've never even put their baby-blues on any Bellerswons before. They could take care of 'em, fo sho!"

"Interesting idea," Hobbes muttered, "But I don't think it would work. They don't live in our Forest, for one thing. Paedo Walrus would say we cheated and then we'd have to suffer the eternal moaning of the Bellerswons. They breed like...breeding things..." he finished lamely, knowing it would have been insensitive of him to say 'rodents' in front of Dee.

"We shall fight in the fields, and in the beaches, we shall fight in the landing grounds, we shall never surrender!" Churchill declared, with a light of hope in his eyes.

The light of hope faded a little, when in the distance, a loud Noise was heard, which was so prominent it warranted the use of a capital letter. It was a rumbling sound, much like a million washing machines all running at once. It contain low growl and high-pitched whines.

As it approached, it appeared to be not a single Noise, but lots of little noises all rolled into one leviathan.

"_ohgod ohgod ohgod...whyismylifesodull..."_ came the growling weeping noise from the Bellerswons. But there were not nearly enough of them to make the amount of noise that was approaching.

The moon had popped out to see what the commotion was, and cast its silver light onto the Mudflat Plains, not caring that the sun was still trying to shoo it away.

From the distant sycamore trees emerged the portly, corpulent figure of Paedo Walrus, his tusks glistening hungrily in the moonlight. Behind him marched (badly, for they were tripping over their feet all the time) eight Bellerswons.

It was difficult to really put a description to them , for they lacked any features that made them interesting, exciting or unique. They were vaguely humanoid, although if there was a creator then one could only assume that He or She had not put much effort into theses particular aspects of Creation. And if the Bellerswons had been made in the Creator's image, then the whole world was in deep steaming piles of horse eggs indeed.

They all had long black hair protruding from what must be appeased to call their heads (because whether they actually contained brains was anybody's guess) and the skin beneath the straggly manes was pale and sickly, as if they needed to spend more time in sunlight. They wore no clothes, but since Nature had not given them any reason to really do so, no harm to public decency was done.

And even if they _did_ have a reason to wear clothes, the deed for which the objects concealed by the clothes were used for would never have been performed anyway; for the simple reason that Bellerswons have the same amount of...bedroom appeal as your grandmother in a skinny thong.

From behind the wavering line of Bellerswons, came the noise.

As they neared the _Empty Vessel_, they Forest-dwellers could see a vast army of other ebings, that were also weeping and moaning to themselves. They were not like the Bellerswons, though. No, these were an entirely different kettle of fish. They were tall, broad-chested hairless anthropomorphic grizzly bears, and extremely hypermuscular, as if they spent half their time grazing steroids. Their faces were perfectly sculpted, as if out of marble, and their eyes changed colour incessantly. They too had incredibly pale skin, but they had enough self-preservation power to wear loose-fitting cloth trousers, which bulged horribly at the front area...

"_Ohbellerbellerbellerbeller... iloveyoubellerbutican'tbewithyou..._" they all cried and howled and beat their right fists into the other fist in union in the fashion of a sort of war chant.

"T-t-t-teddyvamps!" The word leapt out of poor Dee like some form of demented shriek.

"Whoah, that's like...well radical, man." Hippo said hazily, swaying a little. He motioned for the others to follow him, and, one by one, all descended the rope ladder to the muddy ground below.

"Okay, this pretty serious." Calvin said. "But it's nothin' we can't handle, right guys?"

"It would be, if we had Newton with us. He and Hippo are the only ones large enough to tackle the Teddyvamps. I know Hippo's as strong as an ox, but he can't do it all on his own." Flamel chimed in, ahead of Hobbes.

"It's hopeless!" Socrates whined.

"We're all going to diiiiiie!" Screamed Dee hysterically, running about here, there and everywhere, eventually bumping into Churchill, who was sitting down in his 'pondering' mode once more.

"Okay, look. Churchill, you'd better go after Newton. You've got the best powers of persuasion out of all of us. But be quick about it, we can't win at Calvinball against these Teddyvamps without him." Hobbes took charge imperiously.

Calvin did not take long to voice his objections. Hobbes apologised and let Calvin take the stand. Calvin marched forwards, as Churchill saluted and bade his friends goodbye.

He scurried off into the night, feeling grateful as the trees embraced him back into their fold.

Paedo Walrus stepped forwards out of his army and stood face-to-face with Calvin.

"You cheater! You said you'd only have an equal number of Bellerswons to us Foresters!"

"And so I do," said the mass of blubber smoothly, stroking a tusk in an absent-minded way, "But you never said _anything_ about disqualifying Teddyvamps from the match. I can't very well be blamed for _your_ lack of precision, you know."

They both glared at each other, straight in the eyes, never flinching, never blinking. Not for two seconds, at least. Calvin refreshed his eyes and stared once more. He never really held with staring contests, dry eyeballs only advantaged your opponents.

He slowly plucked out a rugby ball and a basketball loaned to him by Crates, and held them before Paedo Walrus's chubby visage. "Okay, all you have to do, is to steal the basketball from our ship over there, and take it back those trees you came out of. We've gotta do the same thing but take the rugby ball to our ship. Anything else in between goes."

"Anything?" the walrus grinned in a creepy fashion, taking, not a few steps, because as was mentioned before, he didn't have any feet; but he took a few slithers, anyway.

"Anything apart from violating Calvin or Crates, you sick freak!" Hobbes snarled, baring his fangs threateningly.

After that almost-futile exchange of less-than-empty words, Dee and a Bellerswon each took the respective balls back to the respective 'camps'. Tension was running high, now. It tingled through the air, and writhed with a certain electricity on the cool night breezes. It ran its fingers through the fur of every animal and the leaves of every tree. It sighed with an magnanimous excitement as it floated across -

"Can we please get on with this, my head feels as though it might burst at any moment!" Flamel snapped at nobody in particular. He smoothed down his fur and tried to put himself into a stance ready to go leaping after Calvinballs. He wished he was curled up in his armchair by the fire with a good book, not standing about out here in the night air wearing nothing but a waistcoat.

Suddenly, the entire world seemed to go mad at once. It was not quite American football, nor Association football, neither was it the noble thug's game of Rugby, or the thug's noble game of basketball, it was most certainly not cricket, and it was, without any hesitation, nothing like Quidditch. This...this was Calvinball... it was the sport that lurked in dark alleys and smoked cigarettes of an illicit nature, this was the sport that stole Croquet's lunch money and dunked Tennis's head in the toilet. This was the sport that was caught passing across borders with Martini rifles concealed in the secret compartments of its far-too-flashy Ferrari.

Calvinball was totally corrupt, utterly insane and relentlessly brutal. The Bellerswons whined as their hair was pulled out of shape by Calvin, the Teddyvamps moaned as they were charged into by Hippo.

Crates and Flamel were scythed by a Teddyvamp's strong arms only to be saved by luckily-timed charge from Socrates, who had finally stopped moping for long enough to form what could almost be called a sense of patriotism.

Everybody seemed to be charging at once – left, right, and centre. Flamel pirouetted gracefully and landed on the shoulders of Hobbes, who tossed him over the wall of Teddyvamps towards the line of distant sycamores, where he knew the rugby ball lay. Although he had never liked sports in general, he knew that this would be the most important game in his life.

He could only hope that Churchill would return with Newton soon. It wouldn't be long before poor Hippo and Socrates would both be bogged down by Teddyvamps. Crates and Dee had both been captured ungracefully by the Bellerswons and Hobbes was trying to chew the leg off of another Bellerswon that had him in a death grip.

(_)

Churchill the Brain had been running as fast as his drumstick-esque thighs could carry him. He _had_ to reach Newton in time, everybody was depending on him! If he didn't the whole Forest would b condemned to a life of moaning and groaning. And Calvin would never be able to return, either. With the reprieve of Paedo Walrus, Calvin would never dare set foot within the leafy glades and sunny heaths of the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest ever again.

Calvin was the figure who made life _fun_ and exciting. It was he who concocted those clever games, and schemes, all the fun activities that only a true child could dream.

And without Calvin, Hobbes would never come back, either. He would remain in the human world, condemned to transform into a stuffed animal whenever a grown-up looked at him, but at least safe from the merciless clutches of the howling Bellerswons.

There would be no room for all of the residents of the Forest in Calvin's house, either. And awkward questions would soon be asked as to where all the new stuffed animals had mysteriously come from. No, if the game of Calvinball was lost, the Forest would metaphorically be lost with it...

As if sensing the weasel's plight, the Forest itself appeared to be assisting him wherever it could. No stream was too wide to leap, no river was too deep to ford, no path was too narrow to run along, and no undergrowth too tall or prickly to squeeze through. Onwards, onwards! Feet feeling as if he were running on hot coals, Churchill at last made it to Newton's little house, built into mound of earth.

Outside the stout oaken front door was a shabby brown bristly horsehair doormat, and a razor-sharp steel door scraper that had been left in that type of ingenious place where it is almost certain to trip _everybody_ up. It did.

Churchill the Brain picked himself up, ignored the biting agony in his shin and hobbled carefully over to the bell-pull and pulled as if his very life depended on it. It did, in some sense of the phrase.

"I wonder...if the door will open with Newton wary or simply uncooperative. Until he opens the door I shall have no way of knowing, so in theory I suppose I could say he was both wary and stubborn at the same time. I do not know whether it shall go one way or the other, so the possibility is rather confusing."

The door opened a crack, held back by a metal restraining chain; and the black-and-white snout, led by a wet black nose with flaring nostrils, that poked carefully out of it said in a gruff baritone: "If ye doo that again, ye ken I'll get excedenleh angreh with ye!"

"Newton old chap, do be sensible and join the Calvinball game, we're all depending on you!" Churchill wheedled.

"Aye, realleh? Weel, ye can schitck that where the sun donnae shine!" the snout was withdrawn and the door slammed shut. Well, it seemed that Newton was being both uncooperative _and_ wary.

"Newton old boy, you can't just leave us all in the soup like this! They've taken to dirty tactics and have set hordes of Teddyvamps on us! Without you...we'll never win at Calvinball and the whole Forest will sink into oblivion!"

Silence fell around the weasel. He assumed that the elderly badger had grown tired of arguing and had gone back to whatever he had been doing. It was as if he was in the middle of an important alchemical experiment...

Churchill knew that, seeing as Newton was a badger he would have tunnels running from his house to all over the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest (a very remarkable achievement) and thus he couldn't have blocked them all.

Even though the subject of eavesdropping was deplorable to him, being a weasel, he did still possess that knack of discovering things that people didn't want him to. Usually this meant that they didn't want him to know they had freshly restocked their larders; but he also picked up other little snippets, whilst searching for the best ways into larders without other animals knowing about it. And Churchill, being a moral sort of fellow, always made sure to repay the animals he foraged off in some way, be it with an extra jar of Elixir mysteriously turning up one night to make up for the leg of ham that had vanished earlier that morning; or a bouquet of daffodils and hollyhocks to replace the ornamental fish that had somehow been syphoned out of a pond, that sort of thing. Therefore, he had discovered, uncovered or created handy little entrances and exits into the other creature's houses so secret that the occupants of the dwellings didn't know about them.

It was into one of these hidden entrances he'd one day dug into a long tunnel belonging to Newton that he was running towards. It meant he'd have to go back a little way from the badger's front door, but at least he could see what the wily elder was up to, when he ought to have been fulfilling his patriotic duty.

He found the entrance, neatly concealed behind a low-hanging willow tree and a large, graceful fern. Without a moment's hesitation he dived in, and found himself to be in the familiar cramped, airless, tunnels Newton had dug so very long ago.

The weasel, having good night vision, had little difficulty in getting up to a swift pace without fear of running into winding corners and down little flights of rough-cut steps that cropped up every now-and-then.

However, being as large as he was, he had to slow down. Even his own mass, couldn't create enough inertia to keep him propelling towards Newton's home. Through a tiny hole in the wall, not three feet away from where he had flopped down to rest, there emitted a flickering, unnatural light.

He could also hear bubbling sounds and Newton's voice reciting something in a strange language he couldn't understand.

"_Ichnael flogaorrbegh dr'aaaargh nefleckled'ich scheniflegil gorronech zaaaa'xijiljil zwoing-whoop!"_ Intoned the grave voice of newton as into a crucible he dropped, first a handful of herbs, then what appeared to be a rabbit's foot, then several whole toadstools with mixed spices, then a fox's tail which caused a large amount of acrid orange smoke to billow everywhere.

After Newton had wafted it away by flapping the laboratory door open and shut a few times, into the mixture he dropped what appeared to be an eye.

Churchill could stand it no longer. He burst through the wall and said: "I say! That's a bit of bally nerve! So it was you who stole poor Socrates's eye!"

"I thought it wouldae been obvious frrrom th' starrrt ye great lumberin' podgy..." Newton said, furious that he'd been discovered.

"This is a rummy lot! You should be out there, fighting! The 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest expects that every beast shall do his duty! And yet here you are in this fox hole! This is cowardice in the face of the enemy!" The weasel's face was a cocktail of defiance, shock, betrayal and anger.

"Aye, realleh? Weel, this ain't my home anneh moor! Now that with all this...borrowed parts from those other animals, I have created a potion that'll let meh trrravel t' Calvin's worrrld wi'oot turnin' into a cuddleh toy every time someone o'er the age of 15 looks at meh!"

Inside the laboratory there were crucibles, Bunsen burners, and Petri dishes on every surface. Quite what the Bunsens ran on, Churchill didn't know, and, somehow didn't _want _to know_._ The glassware in the room ranged from simple beakers to complex fluted distilling tubes of all lengths, sizes and shapes. They too cluttered the tiny room. The whole space felt stuffy and hot, not at all a place where open would wish to spend any time in for long. In the centre of the room stood an island counter, which separated the two animals.

Churchill edged around towards the crucible. Newton edged around again, hoping that the weasel wouldn't touch the bubbling mixture. With his view of newton distorted by a large distilling tube that was in the shape of a giant, many-coiled spring, the weasel pocketed Socrates's eye, and exchanged it for a pebble he happened to find in his gum boot. They looked pretty similar, and Newton would probably be so relieved to find that his precious potion was safe that he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

Churchill looked up just in time to see a metal clamp stand being picked up. He dived to the floor as the glass tubing was disintegrated into a thousand pieces. The clamp stand bounced off the low ceiling and landed heavily on the weasel's skull.

"Ai realleh am so sorry I did that, Brainy! Ye've been a right good friend t' me these many years, but time has to move on, ye ken? She waits for noo man, after all!" Newton sounded sincere and genuine, although by that time Churchill the Brain was already out cold.

The Badger added what he thought was the final ingredient to the mixture, and after letting it simmer he filtered out any unwanted residue using a fine sieve and, after letting it cool for a while, drank the fruits of his labours. He regretted at having had to use almost all the Elixir in the Forest in order to concoct this precious brew, but he knew that in time the Panacea Bees would make more.

He dashed out of the lab and down a long passage way, up a light of three steps and into the a parlour, where his suitcase was already packed and waiting for him. It had been for many days, now.

Panting now, he hurried along several more winding hallways and bolted out of his front door, not bothering to lock it.

He wanted to pause for breath, but knew that at any minute Churchill might wake up and give chase, and who knew then what might happen? He had to get away before that podgy vermin caught up with him! He had to reach Calvin's house!

After a few minutes had passed, Churchill the Brain woke up, stretched for a while and dimly wondered where in the world he was. Concussion can do that to a person. He vaguely recalled being underground, and being the inquisitive soul that he was, began exploring. He followed his nose towards a large larder, that was almost empty, save for a few jars of Elixir. He smiled indulgently, the light of hope and contentment alighting in his eyes. All would be right with the world, now...

(_)

In the meantime, the others had been having a sheer rollercoaster of a Calvinball game. It was always a teeth-wrenching moment when a Teddyvamp whined its way over to a Forester and grabbed the ball of him, just as he was getting it safely home to camp.

The Bellerswons moaned their way around, taking the balls passed to them by the larger Teddyvamps, only to have the ball stolen back by Flamel or Hobbes, who would then pass it on to Calvin, who might then unwisely hurl it towards Dee who would scream in terror and try to hide behind the nearest object available. The ball would have to be caught by Hippo, who was usually preoccupied in boxing off three Teddyvamps at once.

Paedo Walrus, meanwhile, simply had to stand back from an elevated position and watch, as the game unfolded, a wide smirk dancing on his well-insulated lips.

It was no longer a game, of course. It had ceased to be a game a few minutes after it had commenced. There was no longer any good humour, or positive grace. This was now a pitched battle, all-out war, a life-and-death cut-throat survival from which only one winner could emerge.

But one question was still on all the Forester's lips: Where in the name of all that was green was Churchill and Newton?

"Shouldn't they be back by - _oof! -_ now?" Calvin grunted for what felt like the millionth time to (this time) Flamel, as he passed the ball they were supposed to be carrying back to the _Empty Vessel_ in order to win the game.

Flamel leapt over an attacking Bellerswon as it moaned "_ohgod...whydoisuckatvolleyball...?_" and replied to his friend as he hurled the Calvinball down the pitch towards Hippo, you proceeded to toss it back to Hobbes; "I know..it seems most odd. Perhaps Churchill – ahah! -shouldn't have gone! After all, _I'm_ very good at persuading people toooooooooo!" the latter word had become so elongated because the water rat found himself face-first in the mud as a Teddyvamp threw him roughly to one side.

"Well, I never!" he cried in indignation, whisker bristling furiously as he climbed back up, helped by Hobbes who had bounced over. Calvin raced back down the pitch to where the blind Socrates saliently tried to assist Hippo, but without vision he was seriously impaired, and couldn't only ram indiscriminately.

Crates was busy jumping up and down on a lone Bellerswon's head, whilst Dee was nowhere to be found.

Things looked grim. The balls continued their furious dodges back and forth, but nobody seemed to be getting close to the goalposts they had been aiming for.

Out of the apple groves stepped Churchill, whose eyes were ablaze with triumph, a triumph he could taste, a victory looming just over the horizon, a victory as sure as the dawn, now.

"Haaaaaaaalf time, chaps!" he boomed, "Haaaaaaaalf time!"

All the Forest-dwellers crowded around him, even Dee who had found the courage to creep out from his hiding-place when he heard the reassuring call of his best friend, looking extremely dishevelled. All were plastered in mud, from head to foot.

Churchill grinned and showed them what he had been carrying. In his arms lay several large, full jars of Elixir.

"Got 'em from Newton's stock," the weasel explained, "He did a runner, but the fact is, victory isn't far off! Now we can beat these perishers without that scurvy badger and send these blarsted Bellerswons back to the wastelands, where they bally well belong!"

As far as battle cries went, it wasn't the _best_...it certainly wasn't the _worst_ either, but it ranked pretty far down the scale. However, it had the morale-boosting effect that was sorely lacking from the moment.

Everyone cheered and whooped, before each slurping great handfuls of the delicious Elixir, feeling invigorated and restored. _Now_ they'd show that dastardly walrus what was what...

They advanced down the pitch, only to find that Paedo Walrus had vanished. He had abandoned his troops when he's guessed what had transpired, and had no desire to become the 42 Quintillion Billion Mile Forest's newest punching-bag...

(_)

As the sun deemed it was safe once more to shine on the world, it poked its head up over the horizon and began its merry ascent. Calvin and Hobbes, meanwhile, had just managed to walk back to their house in the tree.

Calvin opened the door and allowed Hobbes to walk in first. Inside the door, was not a house at all, but simply a long stretch of blackness, into which light dared not tread. "We'd better get back home soon or Mom'll kill us..." Calvin said conspiratorially.

"You mean you," Hobbes replied, and although Calvin couldn't see him in the darkness, he could tell the tiger was sticking his tongue out.

"Ow! Do watch where you're going, that was my foot!" said a voice that Calvin didn't recognise. It was about his age, possibly a year or two older, and was female.

"Who're you?" he blurted out, rather rudely. Being exhausted from an intense game of Calvinball can leave even the most polite of souls feeling frazzled and unfriendly. Calvin was no such person. He was rude even when he was feeling chipper.

"I'm Lucy Pevensie. What are you doing the spare room wardrobe?"

"No, you've made a wrong turning, Narnia's to your left." Hobbes said, rather more genteelly than Calvin.

"Thanks awfully," said the unseen girl gratefully and felt her way to the left and disappeared.

The dynamic duo emerged out of Calvin's wardrobe and into the bedroom of the typical, messy six-year-old, although Calvin definitely remembered the window being closed when he'd left some while earlier.

"So I guess we found out how Newton escaped." Hobbes commented, lowering the raised the window sash.

"Yeah. Come on, we'd better get to sleep before Mom comes in." Without even bothering to change out of his muddy clothes, (he was much too tired to care about what his mother would say) he and his tiger buddy snuggled down together under the duvet, and were asleep within minutes.

After a mere ten minutes of slumbering, their peace was rudely interrupted. Calvin's mother burst sharply into the room, and switched on the light.

"Calvin, time to get up! Be ready for school in thirty minutes!" she yelled. Her son merely stirred, too spent by his activities the night before to even think of waking up.

She saw the beady black plastic eyes of Hobbes staring back at her from within Calvin's arms.

"At least you're awake on time..." she sighed.

**The End.**


End file.
